


Bad Day At Black Sock

by KB9VCN



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Humor, One Shot, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-31
Updated: 2002-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KB9VCN/pseuds/KB9VCN
Summary: Written August 2002; humor/parody; about 2600 words.
For Mags L. Halliday's Summer 2002 Challenge.
http://groups.google.com/groups?selm=agt32v%24l9h%241%40news5.svr.pol.co.uk
Criteria: - it must be a straight DW story. This is a canon restriction and means no AU, no Xovers, no TTR.  It isn't a restriction on style or content. - it can be any length but must be posted by the end of September 2002. - canon can be from any of the variants of DW (TV, books, audios, comics). - it must contain the following elements:     - fulfilling a promise     - a wishbone     - a phobia     - a gold watch     - one card from a deck of cards
Optional extras (for extra brownie points): - someone called Justine. - a haiku. - the family curse. - someone saying: "You'd have to chloroform me first."
I got everything except the haiku.
See also Bad Day At Black Rock.
This probably takes place during or shortly after Season 26 (with the Seventh Doctor and Ace).
This contains brief mild adult humor.  Reader discretion is advised.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written August 2002; humor/parody; about 2600 words.
> 
> For Mags L. Halliday's Summer 2002 Challenge.
> 
> http://groups.google.com/groups?selm=agt32v%24l9h%241%40news5.svr.pol.co.uk
> 
> Criteria:  
>  \- it must be a straight DW story. This is a canon restriction and means no AU, no Xovers, no TTR. It isn't a restriction on style or content.  
>  \- it can be any length but must be posted by the end of September 2002.  
>  \- canon can be from any of the variants of DW (TV, books, audios, comics).  
>  \- it must contain the following elements:  
>  \- fulfilling a promise  
>  \- a wishbone  
>  \- a phobia  
>  \- a gold watch  
>  \- one card from a deck of cards
> 
> Optional extras (for extra brownie points):  
>  \- someone called Justine.  
>  \- a haiku.  
>  \- the family curse.  
>  \- someone saying: "You'd have to chloroform me first."
> 
> I got everything except the haiku.
> 
> See also [_Bad Day At Black Rock_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bad_Day_at_Black_Rock).
> 
> This probably takes place during or shortly after Season 26 (with the Seventh Doctor and Ace).
> 
> This contains brief mild adult humor. Reader discretion is advised.

"Next stop, Black Sock, California!"

A Streamliner train came to a stop at a station that had seen better days. The small wooden building looked as though it might collapse if a particularly large tumbleweed happened to roll against it.

A conductor stepped from the train. He helped the Doctor and Ace step down. "Please watch your step, sir. Ma'am. If you're disembarking here, you obviously have no regard for your own personal safety."

The Doctor smiled politely. "When does the next train come through here?"

The conductor was thoughtful. He pulled a gold watch from his pocket and flicked it open. "Hmm... two-fifteen... and three hours and forty-five minutes..."

Then he put the watch away as he answered. "Next Thursday."

"Thank you for your trouble." The Doctor reached into his own pocket, pulled out a coin and flipped it to the conductor.

The conductor inspected the coin. It was struck from some non-terrestrial metal, and stamped with alien symbols. "And what do you expect me to do with this, sir?"

The Doctor sighed. "I thought that was a very generous gratuity. Why, if you exchanged that coin at Barnard's Star Bank, you'd get enough gold to buy this train."

The conductor responded as he climbed back up on the train. "Are you suggesting I go to outer space, sir? Well, in that case, may *I* suggest that YOU go to—"

Fortunately, the train sounded its whistle just then, and then it began to pull away.

The Doctor tut-tut'ed to himself. "Passenger rail service will never make it in the States, with customer service like that."

Ace watched the train depart, with the desperate look of a sad child being left at summer camp by its parents.

The Doctor gestured. "Ah, the grandeur of the 1940s American West. Look at it, Ace. The wind-swept fields of desert flowers, the sculpted rock formations, the wide open sky..."

"Desolate hole, if you ask me," said Ace, as they began to walk into town. "I could have more fun in a cat litter. Or even a Dorset rock quarry... Eew!"

The Doctor turned back to her. "What is it, Ace?"

Ace put a hand to her mouth, and pointed with her other hand. "A vulture... I think. Eew..."

The Doctor grimaced. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is it standing over carrion?"

"No, Professor," said Ace. "It IS the carrion. This must be a tough desert."

The Doctor smiled as they both came to the dead bird. "Still... it's an opportunity to examine its skeletal structure."

He poked at the mostly bare bones with his umbrella. "Ah, look. There's the furcula."

Ace regarded him with complete confusion. "The what?"

The Doctor sighed impatiently. "The wishbone, Ace."

Ace was still confused. "I thought that was a salad dressing."

The Doctor glared at her. "Didn't you take any biology classes?"

Ace answered as they walked on. "No. I blew up the sciences building, remember?... Oh, Professor, what are we doing here?"

A distant look came to the Doctor's eyes. "Unfinished business, Ace. An unfulfilled promise..."

"You've got a lot of that, haven't you?" Ace grumbled. "Oh, if I ever meet your earlier selves, I'll give 'em an earful. And why couldn't we have just come here directly in the TARDIS?"

"Black Sock is a small town," the Doctor explained. "There's only a few buildings along this one road. There was no place to land the TARDIS without bringing attention to ourselves."

Ace bit her lip as they passed the the first buildings. "Um... It's a bit late for that, I'm afraid..."

All twenty-seven residents of Black Sock had come out onto the street, to see who had come from the train. The Doctor gave them all his best smile, and raised his hat in greeting.

Not one of them moved.

The Doctor set his hat back down and fidgeted. "Oh dear. Well, let's check in at the hotel."

The two travelers came to a decrepit building that was in only slightly better repair than the train station.

"Oh, no," Ace said. "I'm not staying in that flea-ridden dump! No way I could sleep there! You'd have to chloroform me first."

The Doctor turned on her in exasperation. "Well, then, why don't you ask those fine cattle-herding gentlemen to put you up for the night?"

Ace looked up and down the street once or twice, and saw several tough leathery men eyeing her. They looked as if they might not have been near a woman of any kind in years, let alone an attractive young woman like Ace.

She gulped. "I hope the rooms have deadbolts on the doors."

—

One of the townsfolk followed the Doctor and Ace into the hotel. He walked behind the front desk, leaned against it, and looked at them as if they had ruined his week with their mere presence.

The Doctor smiled, but unfortunately, his vaguely Scottish accent manifested itself as he spoke. He rolled his "R" magnificently. "[Do you have a rrrrrroom?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnXtuktNdlM&t=0m35s)"

The attendant glared at him. "I don't know what a 'rrrrrroom' is, friend."

The Doctor was thoughtful. Then, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a Scottish/American phrase book, flipped to a page, and held it up and pointed out a phrase to the attendant.

The attendant's face lit up in understanding. "Oh! A room!"

The Doctor sighed. "That's what I said. A RRRRRROOM."

They looked at each other for a few moments longer.

"Well?" the Doctor asked, more loudly.

"Well, what?" the attendant asked back.

"DO YOU HAVE A ROOM!?" the Doctor bellowed.

"Oh, yeah, right." The attendant grinned.

He flipped through several blank pages of the empty ledger book on the counter before him.

Then he turned to the wall, and checked a rack full of vacant room keys, hanging from their hooks.

And then, still grinning, he turned back to the Doctor. "Nope."

The Doctor closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Might I then inquire as to the purpose of those unused room keys on the wall."

"You might," the attendant said. "In fact, I'd expect you to do something like that. A-yup."

The Doctor held his face in his hands and groaned.

Ace decided to try a less polite approach. She grabbed the much taller attendant's collar, and pulled herself up from the ground to stare into his eyes. "Look, cactus-pants. I'm tired, I'm dusty, and there won't be any Holiday Inns for another ten years. So, give us a room, or I'll give YOU a saddle-bag-full of Nitro-9, right?"

The attendant grinned again. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Before Ace could let go of him, he turned, dragging her with him, and fetched a key from the rack. The Doctor signed the ledger as the attendant turned back to the counter, tossing the key to him, and Ace lowered herself back to the floor.

The Doctor and Ace trudged away to their room. The attendant called after them. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable!"

—

The Doctor stood at one end of the hallway outside the rooms, facing a window, musing to himself, while Ace took a quick bath.

He suddenly came to himself when he heard Ace yelp. He ran back to their room, and flung the door open. "Ace! Are you alright?"

She stood at the bathroom door, wearing a robe and a towel over her hair, and pointed across the room. "There's a cockroach on the bed!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Oh, Ace. Is that all?"

Ace crossed her arms and scowled. "Yeah, but he's about six foot thirty inches tall, and wearing a Stetson and spurs."

The Doctor also scowled at the man reclining on their bed. "What are you doing here, sir?"

The intruder leisurely pushed his hat up and grinned menacingly. "What are YOU doing— in MY room?"

"This is OUR room, horse-breath!" Ace yelled.

The intruder shook his head mockingly. "Nope. My room. And you're not welcome here."

The Doctor held a hand to his chin, in thought. "Ah... but what do you mean, exactly? Do you have a deep emotional link to this place, because of some tragic event in your past? Or rather, do you mean to say that you've exchanged a certain amount of money for the use of the services of this lodging establishment for a previously determined length of time, and that there's been some unfortunate misappropriation of—"

"LOOK!!" the intruder yelled as he suddenly sat up. "Psychology and economic theory don't enter into it! I'm telling you to—"

But then, his face suddenly went white, and he screamed like a little girl, and then he jumped straight up from the bed.

Ace looked down at the baseball bat she had just pulled from her back-pack. "Huh. Didn't think I was that threatening."

The Doctor went to the bed, and gestured to it. "No, no, Ace. You were right. There really was a cockroach on the bed."

Then he looked up, at a large cowboy-shaped hole in the ceiling. "Worst case of entomophobia I've seen in years...

"Oh well." The Doctor went to his side of his room and began to repack his suitcase.

"Doctor?" Ace asked. "What are you doing?"

"Moving out of his room," the Doctor said.

"You mean you're letting him scare us away?"

The Doctor looked up and sighed. "No, Ace. There's a cockroach on the bed, and the ceiling is about to collapse. I think we're entitled to a change of rooms... and perhaps a partial refund."

—

The Doctor and Ace ambled down the only street in town. They had struck up a conversation with one of the least hostile townsfolk.

"I expect that was ol' 'prickly-heat Pete' who broke into your room," he said. "Don't mind him. He's just a few head short of a herd, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, quite," the Doctor agreed. "I wonder if you might be able to help me. I'm looking for a man name of Justine Smith."

The Doctor turned to Ace and quietly answered her confused look. "His father was 'a boy named Sue.' Something of a family curse, I'm afraid."

"Haven't seen him in months," the man replied. "Why'd you come here just to see him? Why didn't you just write him a letter?"

"I've tried that," the Doctor explained. "But the post returned my letters as undeliverable. Something to do with the addressee having shot a mailman in Reno, just to watch him die."

"Well, why don't you try the diner?" the man suggested. "Someone there may have seen him more recently."

"An excellent suggestion." The Doctor smiled gratefully. "We're both hungry. And there's nothing like good hearty old-fashioned Western cooking."

—

"This is nothing like good hearty old-fashioned Western cooking," Ace complained, as she stirred a bowl with a spoon with precious little enthusiasm.

"I thought you liked chili," the Doctor said, sitting next to her at the diner counter.

"It's not actually chili if it's more than fifty percent grease," Ace said. "And the only thing more greasy than this chili is the drinking water... I think I'm going to be sick."

Suddenly, two hands slammed into the counter. The Doctor and Ace slowly turned, to encounter the angry scowl of 'prickly-heat Pete'.

"What are YOU doing— on MY stool?" he growled.

"You must have been an only child," Ace sighed, as she and the Doctor both moved one stool down the counter. "Didn't you ever learn to share?"

"I hear tell you're looking for Justine Smith," Pete drawled.

The Doctor sat up. "How did you hear of that?"

The cowboy sighed. "I was ambling down the street just behind you. Remember?"

The Doctor smiled and relaxed. "Ah, yes. Yes, of course,"

They looked at each other for a few moments longer.

"Well?" Ace asked irritably.

"Well, what?" Pete asked back.

"CAN YOU TELL US WHERE TO GO!?" Ace bellowed.

Pete grinned. "I've been waiting for that straight line for my whole life."

Ace turned to the Doctor. "Oh, Professor, can't I rough him up just a little? Please?"

The Doctor glared at her. "Violence is never the answer, Ace."

But then, he sighed. "Oh, very well. But no permanent scars."

Taking no notice of the bar-room brawl that suddenly erupted all around him, the Doctor crumbled a few crackers into his chili. "Ah, the American frontier. Such a brutal, unforgiving place..."

—

Night had fallen on Black Sock and the desolate lands around it.

A man sat in a shanty-house on a hill several miles out of town, playing solitaire on a dilapidated card table, and pausing from time to time for a pull from a whiskey bottle or a drag on a not-yet-politically-incorrect cigarette.

Suddenly, the door was flung open. The man looked up.

The Doctor stood in the doorway, and spoke in a stern voice. "Justine Smith?"

"Who wants to know?" the man growled.

But then, before the Doctor could answer, Justine grinned. "Oh, hello, Doctor."

The Doctor was taken aback. "How did you recognize me? I've... changed... since we last met."

Justine grinned wider. "We don't get a lot of eccentric middle-aged Englishmen with suspiciously young female companions around these parts."

The Doctor glanced at Ace, and smiled nervously and fidgeted again. "Ah. Quite so."

"So, Doc," Justine asked, "what brings you back to Black Sock?"

The Doctor was suddenly stern again. "Do you remember the last time I came through town?"

Justine was also suddenly stern. "Yeah?..."

"I had missed the left turn at Albuquerque, and I was hopelessly lost?" the Doctor continued.

"Yeah?..." Justine said again.

"And I ran into you, and you were kind enough to give me directions?"

"Yeah?..."

"And we didn't have any paper handy, so you drew a map on this playing card?" And the Doctor held up an ace of clubs, with a sketch of a map on its face.

"Yeah?..."

The Doctor suddenly smiled. "Well, I made it. Thanks so much. Here's your card back." And he tossed it onto Justine's table.

Justine also suddenly smiled. "Thanks, Doc. I was gettin' tired of playing solitaire 'til dawn with a deck of fifty-one."

The Doctor turned to leave. "Come, Ace. Our work here is done."

"Now hang on one cow-pokin' minute!" Ace protested. "You mean, all of this was just to return one card from a deck of cards!?"

The Doctor frowned at her. "Well, there aren't exactly a lot of game and hobby stores in the area, where he could buy another deck, are there? And a man needs a full deck of cards, to pass the long empty desert nights. One could go quite mad without a full deck of cards."

"Well," Ace grumbled, "YOU'RE obviously no longer playing with a full deck of cards."

"Don't worry, my dear," the Doctor said, grinning, as he put an arm around Ace's shoulders. "I don't need that ace of clubs. After all..."

Ace gulped. "Oh, Professor. You WOULDN'T."

"I've still got..." the Doctor continued.

Ace's face went white. "Oh, no... please... no..."

The Doctor completed his thought. "...an Ace up my sleeve."

"AAUGH!!" said Ace. She shook off his arm and ran from his side.

Justine watched her, then looked to the Doctor. "Say, Doc? Why's she banging her head against the wall?"

The Doctor sighed sadly. "She's a troubled youth."


End file.
